The Children of the Sky (51 page)

“Yes, but that part of it didn’t work out. Flenser had all sorts of broodkennerish explanations, but it came down to the fact that what was left of the Old Flenser was capable of rejecting the puppies …
So
, he gave one to Wretchly and I helped him place the other two.”

Ravna looked out into the rainy dark. If this story was going somewhere, she could guess what became of the other two puppies. “Then who is the rest of Screwfloss, Amdi?”

“Jefri and me, we smuggled the two puppies into the veterans’ Fragmentarium—where the remains of Steel were being held prisoner.”

“Ah. I suppose that was right before Steel’s ‘suicide.’”

“Yes,” said Amdi. “Somehow, Flenser persuaded Carenfret to fool everyone, Woodcarver included.”

“Yeah,” said Jefri, “I’ve always wondered what Flenser had on Carenfret.”

“I don’t care,” said Amdi. “Mr. Steel was a monster, but when I was very little, he was—I thought he was—my first friend. Anyway, the whole thing worked out the way Flenser and Carenfret planned. What was left of Mr. Steel was crazy, but part of the insanity was because Steel had always wanted to prove himself to the Old Flenser, to become something truly worthy. After he stopped trying to kill the two Tyrathect puppies, they fit with him perfectly. Some of the result still
looked
like the original Steel, so he needed the pelt painting for disguise.”

Screwfloss’ sneakiness and killing rage had saved them all, but it was his patient caring that had brought her through the days she lay mindless. Could he really be from the pack that got Murder Meadows its name? It wasn’t a form of redemption available to humans, at least not Down Here.

No one said anything for a moment. There was just the rain and the tiny fire dying down to embers. Finally, Ravna said, “So which of him got murdered last night? Is Steel half, or three-quarters, of what’s left?”

“Ah, um.” Amdi’s voice was a little too cheery. “Don’t worry. You know personality doesn’t go by percentages. Three quarters of the remnant is from Steel, but the four is still a reformed soul.”

The object of their discussion did not show up for several hours, though Amdi said he could hear him patrolling around the camp. “He figures none of us make good sentries,” said Amdi. “I bet he’s going to sleep a perimeter.”

They’d made the kherhogs as comfortable as possible in the lee of the steep hillside where it was about as dry as anywhere. As for their own sleeping arrangements: there were some waterproof cloaks in one of the cabinets as well as the clothes that Jefri and Ravna had worn the day before.

They changed and Amdi and Jefri laid out the waterproofs. The two huddled together as they had on the cold nights of the trip south.

“You can lie with us, Ravna,” said Amdi, making space.

Jefri hesitated, then said, “It makes sense. We need the warmth.”

The issue hadn’t arisen the night before, when their sleep consisted of brief catnaps on top of the wagons.

“Right.” She lay down behind Jefri and let Amdi cluster all around. She hadn’t cuddled these two since they were small. Now … when she slipped her arms around Jefri, it was very different.

The highlands were easier going than the climb up, even where rain had left centimeters of loose muck. The kherhogs could graze on tender meadow grass—though water lay just below the green, disguising deep holes. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the sky was densely overcast—ideal weather for making unobserved progress. Remnant Screwfloss (Remnant Steel?) behaved as he had the day before, scouting ahead of the three wagons, pointing out usable paths. His limp slowed him down, but it didn’t seriously affect his agility.

The maps were stowed, but Amdi had memorized them: “These mountains dribble off to the west more gently than to the east. There’s a steep descent up ahead.”

Ravna remembered that; “steep descent” was too kind a description. The map’s contour lines had merged into a single curve, a sheer cliff. Amdi didn’t deny that, but at the moment he was worrying about something else: “In a few more hours—two days at most—we’ll run into a village, or an inn, or just farmer packs. What are we going to
say
to them?”

“It depends on the situation, Amdi,” said Ravna. Poor guy. He was trying to plan for an
ad lib
performance. Of course, while he was doing that, he didn’t have to think about the coming descent, or the fact that they were out of food (for all values of edible that Ravna wished to consider), and were being hunted by as many as three different gangs. And now, a wind was sweeping across the meadows. Maybe it wasn’t arctic cold, but it jammed icily against her sodden jacket. And they were all tired and filthy and cold and.… Think about something else:

Screwfloss had moved to the rear and was snooping around huge boulders that were scattered in the meadow. His alertness was a comfort, though with every passing day, it seemed more likely that Chitiratifor’s gang was safely lost behind them. Amdi was not comforted. His heads snapped around to follow the foursome. “
Wah!
We could run into local packs even before we get to the dropoff!”

Ravna noticed that Jefri had slowed the lead wagon, and was watching Screwfloss’ investigation, too. In fact, these meadows didn’t look much different from old-style farms of the Domain. Before genetically modified fodder crops, the packs’ idea of farming was much like the human notion of a game preserve. Traditional Tinish farmers simply made the land more hospitable for prey, keeping their animals fed and protecting them against
other
predators. Sometimes farm “fences” could be mistaken for natural tree lines and rockfalls—though she had seen nothing really likely hereabouts.

Caterwauling erupted from behind the boulders.
Something
member-sized came racing out, heading away from the meadow. Three of Screwfloss outflanked it. The creature made a turn so tight it was a flip and headed into the meadow—but Screwfloss’ limper was waiting for it there. The thing had no choice. It made another hairpin turn and was sprinting along the path, straight at the wagons. Three of Screwfloss were closing fast.

It was far too big to be a weasel—and if you saw one of those, you saw a hundred, and then you were probably the weasels’ lunch. Besides, this thing had two extra limbs at its midsection! As it raced past her wagon, she realized that its “extra legs” were the torn and muddy remnants of a travel cloak.

Then lots of things happened at once. She almost lost her reins as her kherhog spooked away from the runner. Up ahead, Jefri and one of Amdi had jumped down from the front wagon.

“Gotta go!” said the one of Amdi beside her. He bailed out, just as Screwfloss stampeded through, followed by the rest of Amdi.

Jefri moved back and forth to block the creature’s escape.

Ravna rose from her bench. “Be careful—” was all she got out before the runner skittered around Jef. But the faster of Screwfloss had caught up. They circled, forcing the singleton back. And now all of Amdi was ranged in front of Ravna’s wagon. Corralling the thing was probably an accident, but it looked like a masterpiece of teamwork. The fugitive had stopped running. It was crouched low, still shrieking monstrously loud.

Nobody moved for a second. Three seconds. The hissing stopped. The creature looked back and forth at its antagonists, then focused on the least numerous: Jefri. A pack could be deadly. What about a singleton? Jefri looked very calm. He kept his eyes on the runaway, but his words were directed elsewhere.

“Ravna, sit back down. Don’t let your kherhog overrun us.” His own wagon had run forward almost fifty meters, then off a little ways into the meadow. “Amdi, you’re doing fine. Just stand up a little straighter.”

She suddenly noticed that Amdi was trembling. His members were large and there were eight of them, but he’d spent most of his life thinking like a human child, with none of the internal role models of normal Tines. But Amdi did his best, all eight rising to alert poses. And he was talking, both to the singleton and to Screwfloss behind Jefri. That pack had been edging around the human, as if planning a sudden rush on the singleton. Now it backed up a little and settled for blocking the singleton’s exit.

“You’re carrying some snacks, right, Amdi?” Jefri asked.

“Yech, if you can call them that.” He reached into one of his panniers and pulled out a big sausage, green with mold. “Not even all of me can still eat these things.” He held it gingerly in the soft tips of a muzzle.

“Why don’t you toss it to our new friend here.”

“Ah! Okay.” Amdi said something to the singleton, then lobbed the sausage toward the creature. It landed just beyond the animal’s reach.

The singleton didn’t move toward it immediately. Its head swept across Amdi, then quickly turned to check out Jefri and Screwfloss, and then sharply looked back at Amdi. It was strange to see a member working so hard just to see what was around it.

After a second more of warning watchfulness, the singleton leaped upon the sausage, flipping it into the air and biting. Big surprise: this food was rock hard. It dropped the sausage to the ground, held it in place while gnawing vigorously. As it ground away, it shuffled around, trying to keep an eye on all the threats.

Suddenly the singleton was gobbling Tinish. The sounds boomed loud from its shoulders. Ravna recognised the chord for “afraid.” Or maybe there was a negation there: “
not
afraid.” That repeated, became a stream of sounds that was much more complicated.

“It’s a talker, isn’t it,” said Jefri.

Everyone relaxed a little. Ravna let her kherhog turn from the path, just far enough to munch on the attractive grass. “Who is it from, I wonder,” said Ravna. “One of the wagoneers?” Surely this wasn’t part of Chitiratifor. The singleton looked starved, its ribs marking high ridges in its ragged pelt. Chitiratifor’s had all been too fat to be so transformed in just three days.

Jefri went down on one knee for a closer look. The singleton raised its head, and its babbling turned into one of those ear-piercing hisses. When Jefri made no further move, it gave a look all around. Then it set the sausage back on the ground and resumed struggling with it.

After a moment, Jefri said, “I don’t think it’s from either of the wagoneers. What’s left of that cloak doesn’t look like what they were wearing.”

“I recognize her markings,” said Amdi. “She’s one of Remasritlfeer.” He threw a second sausage in the direction of the singleton. “But Chitiratifor claimed he killed him all.”

Jefri grinned. “Well, Chitiratifor was a bragging liar … and this is one tough animal.”

They called the singleton “Ritl” even though Amdi wasn’t certain that had been its given name.

Ritl ate both sausages and then threw up, all the while making threatening noises. Then it drank of the meadow water and more or less collapsed in the middle of the road. She was silent except for occasional hisses, mainly directed at Remnant Screwfloss.

Amdi circled around and persuaded Screwfloss to back off. Then he and Jefri sat down and chatted gently at the critter.

“I’ll bet that was the last of her strength,” said Jefri.

Ravna had climbed down from her wagon and walked forward until Ritl started hissing at her. “You figure she was a speech center?”

“We won’t know for sure till she’s rested.” Jef shrugged. “Sometimes language ability isn’t concentrated in one member.”

“I’m like that with math,” said Amdi. “All of me is mathematical.”

“Yeah, but you’re one of kind, pal, a genius in every part. Lord Steel…” Jefri hesitated, possibly because much of Lord Steel was right behind them, grumpily climbing aboard the middle wagon. And Jefri had his own terrible history with the original. “… Lord Steel made you of puppies from the greatest geniuses he could kill, gull, or kidnap from.”

Jefri reached out tentatively in the direction of Ritl. The singleton responded with another hiss, but it seemed to be running out of energy. “I don’t think Remasritlfeer was ever a great linguist.”

“If Ritl were friendly, could she tell us much about Tycoon?”

“A singleton? Probably not.”

Amdi gave a sad little laugh. “She probably remembers useful things, but they would come out as nonsense riddling.”

Ravna thought a second. “You know, there is the obvious thing. It would solve two of our problems at once.” She glanced over her shoulder. All of Screwfloss was sitting atop the middle wagon, looking down at them.

“Can you understand Samnorsk?” she said to it.

Screwfloss’ gaze continued intent and calculating, but the pack didn’t respond.

“I don’t think Screwfloss understands human language,” said Amdi. “I’m not even sure how clear he is on Tinish.”

“Okay. I was just wondering … maybe if what’s left of Screwfloss could get together with Ritl…”

Jefri grinned. “That would be a win, but I’ll bet it doesn’t happen. Ritl is so emphatically hostile.”

“Maybe she’s just frightened,” said Amdi. The singleton was babbling again. The noise was less painful than her hissing, but it didn’t sound friendly.

“Yes, but Screwfloss doesn’t look interested either. Accepting Ritl would probably mean a flip in pack gender, and that’s usually an issue.” Jefri gave an impatient shrug. “If Ritl doesn’t run away then this will be something to think about. Meantime,” he glanced at the sky, “we really want to be on our way.”

“She’ll just run if I back off,” said Amdi.

“Naeh. I’ll bet she’s been chasing us; you know how singletons are.”

“Well, okay.” Amdi said something comforting to Ritl, and retreated from the confrontation. At the same time, he was talking to Screwfloss, maybe asking him to look less threatening. Jefri walked back toward the front wagon.

The critter watched all this from its hunkered-down position. It was still blabbering.

Jefri translated: “Mainly it’s threatening what will happen to us if we misbehave.”

Abruptly, Ritl came to its feet and sprinted off—but stopped when it figured it was out of sight in the meadow grasses.